This time two years ago, I lost my mother to cancer.

We all have things we fear in life and to lose my parents was mine.
I remember getting the news and feeling devastated.

Cancer to me meant one thing, regardless of my mother’s comforting words that she wasn’t going anywhere, that she would be here for my brothers new baby and that her unfaltering faith in God allowed her to believe and assure us she would be saved.

I can remember feeling comforted by this because of the deep-seated desire to want and need to believe this, but shortly after there was a moment where I broke.

Control is something we cling to in these moments and a desire to fix it is overwhelming.

What is more overwhelming is when we recognise that we can’t.

There was no sacrifice I could make, nothing I could physically fight, lift or run to, that could make what my mother had, go away.

None of the physical or mental attributes I had could cure her.
I also remember thinking what strengths do I have that might make a difference.

One thing I do obsessively when I have a passion is research. I do not always hold onto the information afterwards, but I saturate an area of study in order to find what I am looking for.

My brother is similar to me in this, especially when it is something or someone we deeply care about.

During this period we sought endlessly, ways in which to prevent what we had been told was the outcome of my mother’s condition. We denied it.

Not only did we deny it, we defied what would be the inevitable.
In our love we bombarded my mum and dad with research, cures and diets.

I can remember my mum calling me one day and asking us to stop. To step back and let things be.

This is one of the hardest things to accept when it’s someone you love or it’s something you believe with all your heart and yet it is not your decision to make. It feels like giving up.

When this period of my life was happening what is very evident, is that we are not alone in our suffering.

I met some incredible people who had been where I had been, where I was going, and who were suffering in their own way, both those with cancer and also those who were caring for someone or had been left behind.

At the time I was very focused that my mother would not die.
My father, during this time was recording conversations which despite our need to hang onto hope was really him preparing for a time when those conversation would cease and would give us some comfort afterwards and another way to remember her.

I listened to one of these recordings with my mother, where I am trying to convince her to follow a particular diet.

It saddens me still because when I heard myself. I heard the uncertainty of what I was saying.

Although I had the best intentions, when it is someone else’s life you are playing with you begin to realise there is no certainty. To decide which option is best when the wrong decision could make things even worse. It takes a lot to be the one to make the decision what to do, especially when someone’s demise or suffering could be the outcome of a wrong decision.

During this time I was very fortunate to have someone close to me whose mother had had the same cancer as mine, but had passed away some months earlier.

Something that she said still echoes in me. She said that I should spend the time just being with my mum. Enjoying her company and just talking normal trivia as I would normally.
At the time I did agree, but when I look back I never really did until it was too late.

During the time she could comprehend what I said, my focus was on getting her better. By the time I could let go from this idea, morphine has a way of making those conversations impossible – but at least for the majority it does relieve the pain which becomes the only importance then.

It’s very hard to accept something and act accordingly before it is reality.

Something I say to others suffering from certain things, is in order to cope or refocus, to look at helping others.

Nowhere is this more evident than when you see a loved one who has been told they will die. To sit there and hear that news delivered is shattering for a family, but for the person themselves it must be unimaginable.

My mother’s bravery in that moment is etched in my mind for ever. No doubt in the nights that followed whilst she could still comprehend, she must have been terrified and questioned her faith, but in that moment the doctor delivered the blow, she took it straight on the chin like nothing I have experienced before.

How? Because all around her was her family and that was always her focus – family.

Her focus, even in those darkest moments, like any loving mother, was to make sure we were OK.

And when it was not visiting hours, her focus went to insure those dying alongside her where OK.

An amazing women.

Never before have I experienced such bravery and selflessness in the face of adversity. Never before have I witnessed such strength.

Here’s to continually growing and harvesting those attributes both in myself and in others.

Take a moment to acknowledge and appreciate those people who are special in your life and take the time to let them know in some way. Be present in their company for a moment.

Get around people who make you grow and share your passions in the same way.

That way even when we are gone, the good stuff, and the juice of life that’s makes the difference, that ‘builds the base’ keeps on going in generations to come!